


The Estel Legacy

by the_inked_quill



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, Fluff, I'm Sorry, SpaceMarried, i'm not even sorry, this is so fluffy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-08 22:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10397952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_inked_quill/pseuds/the_inked_quill
Summary: A collection of one-shots for my SWTOR characters, not necessarily in chronological order.





	1. Chapter 1

_Coruscant Upper City_

The nightclub felt like a pulsating blur in the Force. Throbbing bass notes rocked the dance floor and swirled out the door. The sharp tang of alcohol hung in the air, mixed with a distinct smell of sweat, perfume, and a hint of spice. Rotating glass prisms threw neon reflections around the room, and lights flashed in time to the beat of the music. Species of all colors and genders milled about the bar, gyrated with abandon on the dance floor, and lingered in lushly upholstered booths. Ashlaa's montrals flooded with sensation as she crossed the threshold. She shot a gleeful look back at her redheaded former padawan.

"You ready for a good time, Kira?" She gave a sharp-toothed grin, neon light glinting off her glittering sash and the silver chains dangling off her headdress.

"Force, yes," Kira grinned back. "Let's show them how these Jedi party!" She unzipped her black synth-leather jacket.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Ashlaa took Kira by one hand, and dragged her forward into the fray.

Following behind the two Jedi, a silver and grey clad Chagrilan followed reluctantly, somehow managing to side-eye all the shady-looking characters along the walls of the club. He took two steps inside and then leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and fixing the dance floor with a decided frown. His eyes scanned the room, ever vigilant, as if he were keeping watch on a patrol. He knew how much trouble Ashlaa and Kira could get into together, and he had no choice but to mop up the damage that ensued in their wake.

The women had already taken seats by the bar, Ashlaa taking shots of a ridiculously-colored drink that glowed fluorescent in the low light. Kira held a tumbler of amber-colored liquid, liberally iced. The bartender, a short, nervous-looking Rodian, bustled up and down the bar, tending to the crowd of patrons. Ashlaa drained her shot glass and turned to Kira.

"Well, that wasn't bad. I sort of expected more from Coruscant's 'premier, exclusive' nightclub." Ashlaa sniffed at the rim of the shotglass. "Though this liquor would definitely be wasted on the likes of Mornyl and Felix. Can you imagine? That fellow Tharan Cedrax actually uses his connections and money to procure them invitations here for their honeymoon, and they actually declined?"

"They're probably having a thrilling evening in the Coruscant Archives, or a wild stroll in the Botanical Garden," Kira said, chuckling. She shook her head. "I will never understand those two. Mornyl especially - she acts like an old sage at least four times her age."

"If it suits them," Ashlaa shrugged, pouring another shot. "Force knows they're perfect for each other. You know, half the Temple had a betting pool going on as to who would snap first."

"Of course it was going to be Mornyl," Kira laughed, draining her glass. "And I thought she was dense, but I've never seen anyone as dense as that Lieutenant Iresso. " She snickered. "At least you never had it as bad as I did," Ashlaa snickered. "I love the girl to death, but if I have to hear another word about 'distractions from Jedi duties' and 'Republic military policy' ..."

"To be fair, the title of Barsen'thor is a pretty heavy weight to carry on such young shoulders," Kira mused. "She's hardly older than I am. And she takes her duties much too seriously. How does she even have a life?" Ashlaa shrugged.

"I was surprised enough when she announced her engagement. I was expecting more of a scandal when the Barsen'thor decided to have her wedding on the steps of the Tython temple, though. I suppose when you are as accomplished as she is, the Council is willing to look the other way." Ashla downed another shot and slid off the barstool.

"To the final union of our lovesick Barsen'thor and clueless Lieutenant," she trilled, raising a glass which she belatedly realized was empty.

"To an eventful honeymoon," Kira added drily.

"Their loss is our gain," Ashlaa laughed. She set down her glass and walked off towards the dance floor. Kira followed suit, not even swaying a bit on her platform heels. Being a Force-user definitely had its perks.

A moment later, a black and silver shadow leaned against the bar, nursing a tall, frothy drink and glancing resignedly at the dance floor. Sergeant Rusk felt decidedly out of place in this upscale nightclub, and under-dressed in his neat but simply tailored black tunic and pants, trimmed in grey and silver. He never wore civvies unless he absolutely had to. Even so, he felt naked without his armor. At least he still had his blaster, tucked imperceptibly into the side pocket of his tunic. His traitorous eyes drifted to Ashla's crimson skin, which stood out in a sea of other colors. Maybe he had a good eye for color, or maybe that particular shade of skin had been imprinted into his memory by now. Sergeant Rusk huffed. That woman was impossible. Her armor had already scandalized many of the older members of the Jedi council, and this .... outfit left hardly anything to the imagination. A dress of shimmery, black material clung to her curves like a second skin, stopping mid-thigh. A tall collar framed her neck, but fell away to reveal the long, bare planes of her shoulder blades and back, dipping low just above the end of her spine. Silver beaded stripes along each side of the dress danced and undulated with her motions, throwing their own rainbow of reflections onto nearby dancers.

Sergeant Rusk passed a hand over his forehead. It was decidedly damper than it had been when he first entered. _Kriff._

"Hey mate, thass'a hot piece of Togruta ass over there, al'right," a voice slurred by his shoulder. He looked around to see a very inebriated Twi'lek, wearing the tunic and badge of a Senator's aide. Sergeant Rusk rolled his eyes. And senators still had the gall to say the Republic was free of corruption...

"C'mon, don't be shy m'boy, I saw you starin' at 'er a moment ago," the Twi'lek continued, draping himself over Sergeant Rusk's chair in an unsettlingly familiar fashion. Sergeant Rusk stood up, looming over the Twi'lek and fixing him with his most intimidating stare (or so he hoped, since after a few drinks his men swore he looked more like a constipated Bantha).

"That woman, you lout, is my wife." His glare deepened, ignoring the Twi'lek's protestations of astonishment.

"Oh look, she's comin' thissway," the Twi'lek finally managed. Sure enough, Ashlaa had parted the milling crowds on the dance floor and was making her way towards the bar. Sergeant Rusk muttered something about "misuse of the Force" under his breath and sighed. That woman would be the death of him someday. And then she fixed him with a wink, and tilted her hip just so, and all other coherent thought left his mind.

Until, that is, the Twi'lek made the mistake of stretching out one hand toward her in a clumsy attempt to grab her by the arm.

"Heyyyy baby, want me to show you a good time? Your ol'man here isn't much fun."

Sergeant Rusk cut in before the Twi'lek could go any further, interposing himself between the drunk and his wife. He bowed stiffly and stretched out a hand.

"May I have this dance?" Ashlaa took one look at him, then burst into raucous laughter.

"Sith hells, Fideltin. What is this, a holodrama?" She winked at him and took his hand, then dragged him onto the dance floor. She pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his waist. "You owe me a few dances, you know. I was looking forward to scandalizing all of Coruscant with our dance skills at the wedding." Sergeant Rusk flushed a deeper shade of lavender.

"Er... dancing isn't really my strong suit. I did manage to not step on your feet for the one dance at the reception."

"Well, we're pretty in tune on the battlefield," Ashlaa quipped. "It stands to reason we'd be killer on the dance floor as well."

"Uh ...." was all Fideltin could manage, as the glinting neon lights caught in the beaded chains hanging from Ashlaa's headdress. The beaded bangles on her ankles jingled as she danced, and her bare feet beat a hypnotic rhythm on the floor.

"Pick up your jaw off the floor, loverboy," Ashla teased, shoving her husband playfully. "I'd prefer you fully functioning and in one piece."

"Awww, look at him. You could easily mistake him for a newlywed....oh, wait," Kira cut in, arriving in a swirl of green satin and a blinding array of green and gold sequins. "Shall I steal him for a while?"

"Get us a few drinks, will you?" Ashlaa half shouted over the booming bass. She turned to her husband. "Republic HQ to Sergeant Rusk, this is your Commander calling. Do you copy?" He blinked twice and fixed her with a roguish grin.

"This is Sergeant Rusk, reporting for duty. Rusk out." He laid one hand on her shoulder and dipped her low using the other hand. Ashlaa squealed in delight, the chains on her headdress tinkling with the motion.

"I knew you had it in you," she giggled. "There's hope for you yet - mmmph!" Fideltin had swept her back into his arms, and was now kissing her in a way that would decidedly have shocked the Jedi Council, along with half the population of Tython. Even the buzz of the dancefloor dropped a few levels as people stopped to gawk at the aggressively gorgeous Togruta and the soldierly Chagrilan locked in a deepening embrace. Kira, returning from the bar, dropped a glass from her tray, catching it with the Force right before it impacted the ground. A wolf-whistle came from somewhere along the bar. Fideltin made an obscene gesture in the direction of his Twi'lek "friend", while still intently kissing his wife. Kira whistled louder, and raised a glass in the air.

"You owe me credits, Ashlaa! Pay up!" Kira scrambled toward the dance floor, laughing. The day Sergeant Rusk stepped foot on a dance floor was the day she got rich.


	2. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some domestic fluff. Set immediately after the First Son storyline.

Mornyl brought the speeder around one turn and slowly began the descent toward the apartment’s landing pad. In the seat nearby, Nadia Grell looked around, wide-eyed, at the bustle of evening traffic on Coruscant. Mornyl could feel her Padawan’s wonder and excitement through their bond, and she smiled fondly to herself. Nadia was not only strong with the Force, but had a heart overflowing with gentleness and compassion. She would make a fine Jedi. 

The setting sun cast the Coruscant skyline in a bronze hue, glinting off millions of windows and skyscrapers. Mornyl spared a glance to her right at the ruins of the Jedi Temple, crumbled and half-standing. Even after eleven years, the building was in no state to be rebuilt, or even reclaimed. She remembered a time, back in the hazy days of her childhood, when its serene halls and pillared colonnades had been home. Then came days of terror and hiding, until she and her crèche-mates made it safely to Tython, guided by a few Jedi Masters. In the years to follow, Tython had become even more of a home to her, as she meditated in the serene woodland glades, or sparred with her Master on fields of waving grass. There, she had learned to love the Living Force, and open herself up to feel it flowing through every leaf, every breath, and every heartbeat. But now... where was home?

“Master, is this the right landing pad?” Nadia’s soft voice brought Mornyl jarringly back to the present. She saw that the speeder had been slowly drifting toward the public taxi pad on a nearby building, and wheeled it around to head back to the apartment building. Mornyl gave her Padawan a sheepish grin, sending a message of apology through their bond.

“Forgive me, it has been a long day and there is much on my mind.” She turned her attention to piloting the speeder. “I wonder how the others are faring – they should be just about done unloading the ship by now.” Nadia was silent, leaning against the side of the speeder and peering around at the bustling cityscape. Their training bond hummed pleasantly with fondness as Mornyl sensed her padawan’s wonder and amazement at visiting Coruscant for the first time. 

From the moment they had arrived planetside that morning, Mornyl and Nadia had been whisked off to meet with several Jedi from the council, as well as Senators who demanded to know how the Rift Alliance was faring. Over holocall, Grand Master Satele and the rest of the council had requested the presence of the Barsen’Thor and her newly appointed Padawan on Tython as soon as possible.  After hours of meetings, Mornyl simply wanted nothing more than to return to her small Coruscant apartment and collapse on her meditation mat in the garden.

As the speeder halted on the platform adjacent to the apartment roof, Mornyl breathed a sigh of relief. The day was almost over. Descending from the speeder,  Mornyl  felt Nadia lay a hand gently on her arm.

“I can sense your weariness, Master. Let me take care of the speeder – my father taught me a thing or two about them. You should go on ahead. Uncle Felix must be eager to see you.” She smiled shyly and began checking the speeder controls and stabilizers. Mornyl turned to her Padawan and squeezed her hand gratefully.

“Thank you so much, Nadia. I will be in the garden, should you need me. You are released from your daily duties as well, dear. Take some time to rest and meditate after such a long day.” 

Nadia smiled and waved to Mornyl from her seat by the speeder. “You as well, Master.”

Humming to herself, Mornyl turned and approached the doors of her Coruscant apartment. The doors whooshed open after she keyed in a code to reveal a flustered C2.

“Sergeant Iresso told me you were not to be expected this early, Master!” C2 seemed to stammer, if a droid was even capable of doing so. “Do you require sustenance? Dear, dear, you seem to have misplaced your padawan!” C2 looked horribly distraught, hands thrown up high in exasperation.

“Now, now, C2, I am all right. Nadia is taking care of the speeder out there.” Mornyl gestured out the window. “Where are Tharan and Qyzen?”

“Oh, Tharan and Holliday left as soon as they had finished unloading the ship. He said he had ‘important business’ downtown. Qyzen is in his room, as usual.” C2’s agitation seemed to lessen.

“If you could go and make sure the kitchen is in order, and draw up a list of what groceries we might need for the next few days…” Mornyl smiled at the droid. “That is all, thank you.”

C2 bowed stiffly and made a hasty exit towards the kitchen. Mornyl spared a fondly amused glance toward the retrating droid. In truth, there was not much to do in the kitchen, but C2 always functioned better when given a task to perform. Being idle seemed to have no place in the protocol droid’s programming. 

Morny walked past the  rows of potted plants in the hallway, smiling as she inhaled their fragrance. In the time she had been away, the Rishi flowers had bloomed, pink blossoms nodding above lush green foliage. She would have to thank Tharan for those - after learning of her love for gardening, he discreetly had some gadgets shipped to her apartment that would provide controlled environments for potted plants, complete with an integrated watering system and climate control. 

Closing her eyes, Mornyl let the swirl of the Living Force guide her down the hall towards her garden, breathing in deeply as the sensation intensified. She felt the Force call to her as she neared the garden, unfurling from every leaf, vine, and blossom. With a content sigh, she waited as the doors whooshed open before stepping into the climate-controlled room - and straight into a pair of arms?

With shock Mornyl opened her eyes, only to be held tighter and spun around by Felix until she was facing the long window which wrapped around three sides of the garden.

“Welcome home,” he said with a lopsided, almost bashful smile. “Would you like some dinner?” Taking her hand, he gestured towards a corner of the garden, where he had tactfully re-arranged the planters to form a little grove. A blanket was spread on the floor between the plants, and dishes of food were arrayed on the middle of it. Mornyl blinked in surprise, then threw herself at Felix in delight, planting a kiss on his cheek. Felix blushed adorably.

“This is so thoughtful … I don’t know how I could possibly ever thank you, Felix,” Mornyl said. For a military man, Felix could be surprisingly perceptive and sweet.

“Well.. I might have a few ideas,” Felix replied with a wink. “If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, you rascal! How dare you insinuate things like that to the Warden of the Jedi Order!” Mornyl pretended to be scandalized.

“Come on, the food is getting cold,” Felix said, gently tugging on her hand. Mornyl laughed and followed him to the picnic, blissfully inhaling the smell of home-cooked food and … tea? Her eyes flew open in astonishment.

“Yes, I made tea.” Felix chuckled. “How is that so astonishing to you?”

“B-but...you … tea….” Mornyl stammered for a moment. When she had recovered herself, she picked up a steaming mug, holding it in both hands and savoring the warmth. Taking a sip, she smiled. “This is surprisingly good. Are you sure you made this?”

“Well, yes, I am capable of making more than caf, on occasion.” Felix smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Mornyl blushed, wondering what she had ever done to deserve someone like him. Without saying anything more, she immediately turned to the food, stomach growling. Felix laughed and handed her a plate.

As Mornyl took bites of the delicious food, she could sense Felix watching her with amusement, and the ripple of contentment and love that spread out from both of them in the Force. The fern fronds nearby their picnic spot swayed gently, gilded by the sunset painted in gold, bronze, and crimson across the wide window. Setting down her plate for a moment, Mornyl leaned against Felix, resting her head on his shoulder. After travelling the galaxy, visiting planet after planet, and spending interminable days in the void of hyperspace, she realized … she was finally home.


End file.
